In the grand scheme of things, perhaps Rhaena should have been grateful that in the turmoil of settling a new king upon his throne, she had become somewhat forgotten. This allowed her to move with a little more freedom which she used to stay as close to Sansa as she was able, adopting the role of a handmaiden as an excuse to remain by her side. Each day she would rouse Sansa from her sleep and bring her breakfast and whilst she ate, she would make the bed, lay out a fresh set of clothing, tidy the room and give it a quick cleaning before then setting to the task of brushing and styling Sansa's hair. She would then help her dress, fetch her shoes and walk with her wherever it was she was meant to go. So fully did Rhaena adopt the role of a servant that none questioned her motives or even denied her the task for she did it without pay. None stopped her, so she proceeded to carry on as she was. All the while she kept her eyes and ears open, taking in every scrap of information she could gather that might one day be of use, especially if it concerned the movements of Robb and his armies as opposed to that of the Lannisters. War had begun.
Rhaena lived and breathed to be little more than a shadow. She begun to dye her hair a dull brown in order to hide its true colour, wanting to be as unnoticeable as possible. There was nothing she could do about the shade of her eyes save keep them downcast and not meet anyone's gaze and it almost seemed as if Rhaena Targaryen ceased to exist. She became simply Rhae, a penniless servant girl who looked after the daughter of a traitor. In truth Sansa depended almost entirely upon Rhaena to keep up her spirits, confident that Joffrey would pardon her father because she was to be his queen and he loved her. So adamant was her belief that Rhaena did not have the heart to correct her, though perhaps she should have done for then it might have prepared her for the fate of Lord Eddard Stark. Neither of the girls had seen him since the day he had been taken prisoner, but upon the morning where he was to admit his crimes before the people and Baelor the Blessed, Eddard was brought from the Black Cells in order to confess his sins has he had been persuaded to do in the hope of claiming a pardon or a lesser sentence.
The Hand had seen better days. He looked waxen and pale, his clothes filthy from the cell where he had been left to simply rot and he limped heavily from his wound as he was pulled through the braying crowds in order to stand before all in company of the king, the Queen Regent and several others who were present to bear witness. Rhaena felt her heart rise to her throat, wanting nothing more than to run to Lord Stark and batter away the people who were screaming and striking at him, wishing she had the power to whisk him away upon the winds and spirit both he and Sansa home to Winterfell in the North where they would be safe. Such was her fancy, yet Rhaena stood still and powerless in the wake of greater people who surrounded her. Lord Stark was forced to his knees, bound like the criminal he was branded. It was an injustice and a devastating spectacle to have to witness. Rhaena did not want to see Lord Stark in such a manner. She wanted to remember him as before, warm and kind and entirely worthy of admiration and respect. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King." Finally raising his voice to speak the crowds quietened in order to listen, for even when bound and chained Lord Stark commanded attention. He turned his head to look at his daughter Sansa who gave him a confident smile which he could not return, looking then to the brown-haired girl beside her. Lord Stark recognised her instantly and held her gaze for a length of time. Rhaena struggled to remain strong as Lord Stark looked at her, giving him a single nod of her head as her fingers then curled purposefully around Sansa's. Do not worry, her action said to him. I will protect her. Satisfied that at least his daughter would not be alone, Lord Stark returned to the spectators. "I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and of men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend King Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself."
"Traitor!" The cry was taken up by more of the spectators who had come only to witness the suffering of another. Anyone who truly knew Lord Stark would know him to be innocent, and yet for the sake of Sansa and for peace, he was willing to lie to everyone and take the blame upon himself. Rhaena's admiration for the man now knew no bounds. When Lord Stark was struck in the head Rhaena grasped hold of Sansa's arm as she whimpered, watching as the Hound steadied Lord Stark and stood him straight once more so that he could continue with his confession, which had been fed to him by the lions whom held him at their mercy.
"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say." Resuming, Lord Stark allowed his voice to carry even as he continued to spout more lies. "Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." This seemed to satisfy Joffrey as he sent his mother a smug look of satisfaction and satisfaction to be publicly announced as the true heir to the throne. Her mouth curled in disgust as Rhaena glowered at Joffrey's head, crowned with golden antlers. He looked ridiculous. Like a child playing dress up. Before her anger could prompt her to act recklessly, Rhaena turned her attention to Grand Maester Pycelle as he shuffled forwards in order to respond to Lord Stark's confession.
"As we sin, we do suffer." He announced with as much volume as his reedy voice would allow, though Rhaena imagined that only those in the first few rows would be able to her a single word he spoke. "This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men. The gods are just but Baelor taught us that they could also be merciful." Turning now so that he might address Joffrey, Maester Pycelle lifted his hand to gesture to Lord Stark who remained standing with his head bowed. "What is to be done with the traitor, Your Grace?" The crowd readily offered up their own opinions in a chorus of shouts and demands however Joffrey lifted his hand in order to silence them, smiling sickeningly as Rhaena's stomach twisted with nervousness whilst her lips murmured in silent prayer that Lord Stark's life might be spared, even if he was sentenced to exile. Exile was not death. At the very least, she could hope that she might see him again and perhaps even overturn the ruling. If a new person sat on the throne, then it was a possibility.
"My mother wishes for Lord Eddard to be allowed to join the Night's Watch." Joffrey began to speak, pompously addressing his subjects with a superior attitude that he simply did not deserve. "Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile." This was perhaps the one and only time that Rhaena agreed with Cersei. Exile. It was the safest option for him. Joffrey then turned to look at Sansa who smiled as prettily as she could for him as Rhaena shrank back with a bowed head as to go unnoticed though looked up through her lashes to listen and watch. "My lady Sansa…she has begged mercy for her father." For a moment Joffrey looked at Sansa with such tenderness that Rhaena could almost believe that he might have shown mercy, or at least listened to his mother. But then all at once his expression changed and Rhaena recognised the cruel, vicious creature she had known since childhood. "But they have the soft hearts of women!" Closing her eyes, feeling the weight of the world crash on her as realisation settled upon bother herself and Sansa. "So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn," Joffrey whirled around, a sick grin on his face. "Bring me his head."
"No! Stop!" Sansa cried with a terrible scream as she attempted to move forwards, whether to clutch at Joffrey or race to her father Rhaena did not know, but before she could do so the Gold Cloak behind them caught hold of Sansa and held her back as she began to weep and plead with Joffrey who remained deaf to her calls. With the guard restraining Sansa and as the queen attempted to reason with her son, Rhaena found herself moving around behind them to race forwards with a sob. Tears blurred her vision, but she managed to avoid another guard as she ran to Lord Stark as he was forced to his knees, the crowds braying for his blood like wild animals. Barely noticing Varys also racing to the boy king to entreat him to change his mind, Rhaena stretched out her hand towards Lord Stark just as one of the guards caught hold of her wrist, but she fought against them, pulling and rooting her feet to the ground until her fingers managed to touch Lord Stark's shoulder. Each time she blinked her vision cleared as the tears fell but were soon replaced, continuing her struggle against the guard and even lashing out with her foot to strike at him so that she could secure her grasp upon Lord Stark. His head turned slowly as if he had all the time in the world, their eyes meeting for a final time, a calm shade of slate grey. Rhaena could not even begin to describe his emotions because her own were too rattled and scattered to be able to understand anything but her own horrified anguish. Ser Ilyn was already moving towards them with his sword drawn, face covered with the black cloth of an executioner. The King's so called justice. Despite his looming death, Lord Stark managed a smile to Rhaena as she continued to fight, breaking free when someone attempted to grasp her waist by elbowing them in the face. Her hand finally clamped down firmly upon the lord's shoulder where he tilted his head and placed a tender kiss upon her fingertips. A final goodbye, and one that reduced Rhaena to endless sobs and screams.
Eventually it was the Hound who ripped her away, shoving the golden cloaked guards aside to pull Rhaena back with his arms locked around her and effortlessly lifting off the ground. Still, she struggled, screaming in defiance and fighting against him as she hissed like a wildcat, flinging her legs in an attempt to break free. Ser Ilyn was now standing upon the raised stone dais, his sword in hand. Rhaena begged and pleaded woefully for mercy, but her voice was lost in the cheers and shouts of those who demanded blood. Sandor kept her back, drawing her away as she continued to try and break free but ultimately, she was too weak. Ser Ilyn did not prolong the anticipation. He raised his sword up high and swung it in a clean downward arc which passed through skin, flesh and bone without interference. Lord Eddard Stark's head rolled in the blink of an eye. All at once Rhaena fell silent and still, staring as the body dropped with sporadic convulsions and the head vanished from sight. A breath. A gasp. Then the tumultuous roar of barbaric satisfaction. Rhaena's face crumbled as she fell into complete sobs, turning herself in the Hound's grasp to hide herself against his armour. She did not even care who he was, but she could not bear to look upon the scene behind her. Sandor grit his teeth but did not push the girl away, letting her howl against him as his hand came to hold her upright as her knees buckled more than once.
The Stark girl had already fainted from the shock and several members of the Small Council stood in horrified silence until eventually, actions began to be taken. Sansa was carried away back to her room and seeing that she was leaving, Sandor grasped hold of Rhaena and gave her shoulders a sharp shake. "Get a hold of yourself, girl. Tears do the dead no good." Shaking her until she was able to look at him, Sandor then jerked his head in the direction where Sansa was being caried away. It took a moment for it to sink in for Rhaena as her mind had ceased to stop functioning, but once she realised that Sansa was being removed, she realised that she should follow. Sandor was right. She could not cry, she had to be strong for Sansa now for she would need a shoulder to cry upon more than ever. Weakness was not permitted here, so Rhaena did her best to steel herself against the grief and sorrow she felt. With a quick grasp of Sandor's arm, she then pushed her way past him in order to race after Sansa and accompany her to her chambers, leaving the remains of the great and noble Eddard Stark to the mercy of his murderers. Looking behind her, Rhaena fixated her blazing focus upon Joffrey who had spread his arms to lavish in the applauding cries of his subjects and his mother who stood beside him. One day. One day Rhaena vowed to rain down fire upon them until their blood ran in rivers through the streets. One day. One day they would regret this moment, for it was the moment Rhaena Targaryen vowed to destroy all those who had part in the death of Lord Eddard Stark.